Cumbersome
by Pseudoangel
Summary: Can Lu Meng wash the blood from his hands? Death-Fic.


Title: Cumbersome.

By: Pseudoangel

Warnings: There are some spoilers for those who haven't played the game. The information here is mostly based on research of the true historical figure, Lu Meng, and also Dynasty Warriors 3. Some angst as well.

Disclaimer: Koei owns the character Lu Meng, and all other characters mentioned in this piece of crap fanfic. Darn.

Special Thanks: To all those who reviewed my Gundum Wing fic, extra love to you!

****

Cumbersome.

He was _going _to die.

That didn't bother him. No, not really. The real question was when, and how.

Would it be with glory, among his men? Or would he be coated in wrinkles, instead of wounds, sinking into the warmth of his bed, while death whisked him away?

He wasn't sure which he preferred, in the end it was the same. He would still be Lu Meng of Wu, whether he died tomorrow, or fifty years from now.

It really didn't matter, or so he told himself.

He had seen his fair share of death. He wreaked of it, it was in his hair, under his nails, and in his very soul. Every battle it seemed, he lost a part of himself.

__

Sun Jian. Sun Ce. Taishi Chi.

They had died with honor, been avenged, and were now called _heroes_.

Was that what Da Qiao would tell her children? Their father had died a hero? They should be _proud_?

The men he himself had killed- had their wives said that as well? Or did they still cry, and as the warm salty tears slide down their cheeks, did they curse him with their shaking breaths, before they went to sleep at night?

It didn't really matter if he died tomorrow or fifty years from now. He would still have the blood on his hands, no amount of time could wash it away.

He had achieved fame, he had achieved glory, and in attempting to serve his Lord- had he lost himself?

When the cold steel of Fighting Tiger sliced through the flesh of another, he questioned it all.

__

Pride. Battle. Honor. Fame. Death.

Were they all not one in the same?

He had defended Gan Ning's bloodlust in battle. Sun Quan thought that man careless, a liability. The drunken ex-bandit's thirst for violence had disturbed the men.

Why did it not send chills down _his_ spine, to see the fierce grin, and pure joy that Gan Ning breathed in, every time he played the role of reaper in battle.

For, was it not better to have death as an ally, than an enemy?

When had he become so cold, heartless? Did people fear him, as they did his comrade?

Sometimes- in battle- he couldn't hear their desperate screams. The last painful gasps for their wives, their loved ones. Their final goodbyes. He may not have been able to hear their words on the battle field, but he could more than hear them in his dreams.

His victims, they haunted him at night. When widows cursed his name, when children swore their vengeance, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

When others inquired about the deep circles that consistently shadowed his eyes, or why he had _never_ smiled- he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

What type of soldier, general, _hero_, was bothered by a few dead peasants?

Yet- he knew it would be the death of him. The ghosts of his past, they would have their revenge.

****

219 A.D.

Lu Meng was a good, an honorable man. Fierce, wise and kind- he fed the starving mouths of his people, distributed medicine to the sick and dying as well. His people loved him.

He **_had _**been a good, an honorable man. He **_had_** been fierce, wise, kind and loved. When he **_was_** _alive_.

Sun Quan stood silently outside the weathered door of the tome. Although his body screamed of calm, and his regal nature, his eyes, they shrieked of conflict- turmoil. The grief, the loss.

Hadn't the death of his father, his brother, his comrades in arms- _been enough_?

Apparently not.

Now, his friend and ally, Lu Meng, had fallen victim to the cold inevitable embrace of death. He could not have stopped it, nor could the numerous surgeons that had been summoned.

Sun Quan could not have controlled fate. No matter how hard and desperately he had tried.

Upon Guan Yu's death, the elder bearded soldier had sworn death to Meng.

He had received his vengeance.

When Sun had seen the features of his deceased friend's face, there almost seemed to be a mask of relief. Beyond the scars of battle, and marks of time, if you looked hard enough- you could see it.

Everyone knew that death haunted the man.

Everyone _knew_.

His hurt, his pain, he had carried always. He was different from the others, the soldiers who cherished war.

He had been a good man, if only Lu Meng had known that. Maybe- just maybe, you would have seen him smile.

****

Author's Notes:

is Lu Meng's 5th weapon in Dynasty Warriors 3: Xtreme Legends. I usually tend to use White Tiger though.

Lu Meng died in 219 A.D. In his biography (not in the game) he was well known for his kind heart, and his loyalty to his people. He seemed like one of those characters to me, that would be torn about having to kill in battle.

Thanks in advance to those who _might_ review. In all honesty, this is such a piece of crap, that it wouldn't shock me if people ran in horror from it.

K


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